Still Bloggled

They say that want-to-be writers should write every day. "They" being the published writers.

But "they" tend to imply that writing is a chore. "They" say lots of stuff. "They" are snobs and I don't like "them" (just kidding, I'm just enjoying putting quotation marks everywhere). I actually enjoy the process of writing (nerd-alert). And I have a sneaking suspicion that it may be because I am mastering the art of really bad writing. Alas, some of us must write the really bad stuff so that people can read stuff and say "Oh, that was really good!"

If you've read me much (that sounds weird - "Hey Bob, I was reading you yesterday.") you'll know that I mostly like to write train of thought. I'm not sure but that might be bad. I should google it. But I say to heck with it, I like watching my own pretty trains of thought go by in black and white. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh they go.

I like to express and explore not only what's going on in the inside but to see more clearly what going on. And what is going on? Lots! We live in a world of perpetual "goings on" and while it can be tiresome to process the entire world, it's really interesting, and it's a world worth writing about and worth investing in with creative thought. Or um, at least semi-creative thought. Or at least thought.

Most of all I think that what makes me enjoy the process of writing is that I have a small keyboard that perfectly matches my small hands. And it's one of those keyboards that makes a utopian little click with every keystroke. It's extremely satisfying.

So I write all of this really profound stuff just to celebrate the fact that this is my 150th blog post! Yeah! And if you've read them all, I'll send you a t-shirt along with my condolesces.

I also want to thank all of you, yes you Arakmajad Smith from IZAKURTISTANIANSWEATERVEST, who are out there in cyberspace, are reading my posts and enjoying them. I also want to thank those of you who hate my posts but read them because they make you mad.

It's fun writing knowing that someone out there is reading. And with the whole cyber-space thing, it's sort of like letting go of balloons and watching them float off into the distance and wondering where they'll wind up. Hopefully not in some poor gooses throat. With each post, I worry that I may be killing a goose.

And on one last closing note (I feel like I'm receiving an award - albeit one from myself, which are the best kinds, because you get yourself exactly what you want!) my mind is still "bloggled" and looks like it will be for a long time to come!

Airports

Here I sit in Denver International Airport surrounded pretty normal people. It's weird that there's not more weirdness. Airports are usually a comic writer's paradise. Oh well, I guess I'll have to settle for "normal."

There are a few things that have been buzzing through my head, as, apparently, I'm the only unusual person around. So here you go:

1. Why do I always want to talk about plastic explosives when I'm going through security?
2. Will even typing "plastic explosives" get me in trouble?
3. Why, if signage at airports are for anyone that is on an 8th grade learning level, is it so easy to get lost?
4. Why is my gate always, and I do mean always, the farthest gate away?
5. Why do airports make people fall asleep in unusual positions?
6. Shouldn't they get rid of morbid and ominous words like "I'm-to-young-to-die-terminal" "I'm-not-a-cow-gate" and "I-don't-want-to-go-anywhere-stewardess"?
7. Why do airports look like something out of Star Wars? And wouldn't it be so cool if I was in Star Wars, running around and shooting Storm Troopers with my laser gun.
8. And finally, why aren't people terrified out of their minds? I mean we're about to get on a 5 ton piece of metal and other stuff and GO UP IN THE AIR!

Anyhow, I don't have much spiritual stuff to write today, but I've decided to write more often the short thoughts I have, as well as keep up the devotional writing. Thanks for reading. I hope I don't die!

Celebrate!

Dude and dudettes! This is my 5oth blog! So I want to celebrate. And what better way to celebrate than to write down some random thoughts that nobody in their right mind will ever read? Actually, I read my stuff all the time, totally overlooking grammar, syntax and spelling issues (I find my mess-ups endearing). It's sort of narcissistic, but hey we all need a little narcissism in our day. It makes us feel beautiful and reminds us that we really are the center of the cosmos.

That's why I'm so excited about having reached 5o blog posts. It validates what I'm doing. Soon publishers will be knocking on my door. They'll line up, begging for a chance to have a piece of me. And while I will generously hear their pleas, listening with polite interest, I will sadly announce that because of my rising fame, I'm going to publish my own work independently. "After all," I will remind them, "it is about me!"

That's the danger of blogging: seeing your writing in any sort of organized fashion, may lead you to believe that you must be heard for you are profound, deep and relevant. The truth that I'm learning is that I am simply one among many, and by "many" I mean 6.5 billion peeps. I've got nothing to add that hasn't been said already in one form or another. "Blah, blah, blah," Philip writes.

But some things need to be said again and again. Like how mysterious our God is. How wild his passionate love for us is. How he is a sure anchor for our souls. How the Gospel speaks and speaks and speaks. How it's always "Good" and always "New" in any and every situation we find ourselves in. I guess that's why it's called the Good News!

And there's things about me that are begging to be let out. Things that I can only work out if I write about them. Thoughts, fears, struggles, and joys that writing seems to purify and reveal. Some of you might not think of yourselves as writers. Some of you may sit down in front of the computer and express your life story in "I woke up and brushed my teeth. The END." But I really doubt it. I've never met anyone who's story wasn't interesting, and whose fears, struggles, hopes, joys and thoughts didn't help me in my journey.

So some of you may not like writing. I understand. It wasn't until I was given the freedom to really write some lame stuff, that I began to enjoy it. Plus, my Mom and Dad enjoy my lame stuff, for which I have to give them a hand for being encouraging beyond reason. They rejoice in my thoughts. Maybe because they know me and they are thoroughly surprised that I think!

It's funny, I can't wait to see what my kids will write about. If they choose to notice that peanut butter is made out of peanuts and are fascinated by it's qualities, I'll be thrilled! Why? Because those kids are my kids. What they write and do is precious to me.

And of course this leads me to how God must view us. If he "rejoices over us with singing" and "dances over us," my guess is that he goes absolutely nuts when we attempt to create and reflect his beauty. It's a cool and encouraging thought.

And speaking of encouraging, it's sunny outside, I've had some really good coffee, it's Friday and I've reached 50 entries. If you struggle with melancholy like I do, times like this are times to celebrate, times to revel in and times to relish, because I think they might give us just a hint of what the real celebration will be one day when we little creators meet our Big Creator. Just imagine the projects we'll take on together, imagine the curiosities overturned, the laughter and the bottomless depth of satisfaction of working in line, in tune and in concert with God. I hope you get a taste of this reality now!

Thanks for reading.

Hot Summer Afternoons and Chimps

This afternoon I'm sitting in a quaint coffee shop in Chattanooga's "Bluff View Art District." Sounds pretty schwank eh? Well it is. I'm waiting to meet a friend to talk about Student Venture. I enjoy meeting and sharing with folks what I'm up to, but if you're like me mid-afternoon can be one of your least productive times.

There is something about mid-afternoons in the summer that just make me want to check out for a few hours, turn the old brain off and snooze until the cooler hours descend. Siestas are something that I think our culture needs to adopt. What would the US look like if we all pulled out pillows and just nodded off into dreamland from 1-3PM? Would we have less drugs, violence and cell-phone talkers? Possibly.

I don't know, maybe I'm lethargic by nature. Maybe in the dawn of my creation, God was wondering whether to make me a slug or to make me a human. Perhaps I have a little of the slug in me, a slice of their nature that sings in the sweet Simon and Garfunkle duet, "Slow down you move to fast, you've got to make the moment last. Just a-skipping along the cobble stones, do and do-do feeling groovy."

Wow, lyrics sound funny when you write them out. It's like without the music, they sound like they were written by monkeys! Well maybe not monkeys, but if monkeys wrote, surely they'd write lyrics like these.

And while I'm on to the subject of monkeys, I think they're always napping. Have you heard that pound-for-pound they are 4 times as strong as humans (I need to google-check this)? But whenever I see monkeys (which is all the time of course) they are napping. They've totally bought into this nap thing, paw over fist.

On hot afternoons like this I covet the life of a monkey, even if it means flinging the occasional poop and sitting in a hot cage. At least they get to nap whenever they feel like it. The chimps are especially good at this, it must be a source of pride. I've seen them down at Chattanooga Zoo, just sitting in the shade and nodding off. They seem so content. Just happy to be. Maybe the fact that people "oh" and "ah" over them has gone to their little chimp brains. Or maybe they're mystics, deeply contemplating the intricacies of the universe, meditating and sleeping in perfect trust and peace. Sounds good doesn't it?

Well, I better get back to doing something "productive."